


Auto Erotica

by whythokylo (OpalElephant)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alien X Human, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Interspecies Romance, kind of, robot x human
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:54:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22077295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalElephant/pseuds/whythokylo
Summary: Rey works at Plutt's junkyard, staring up at the sky and dreaming of more. And then one day that more is towed into the lot, and life is never going to be the same.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	Auto Erotica

**Author's Note:**

> This borrows somewhat from the movie Bumblebee (2018). I'm a really casual Transformers fan so I am sorry for the mistakes I will surely make. Also if you are asking yourself why, please keep in mind that I can, will, and must do whatever I want

***

"Hot out." _Snap_.

Rey doesn't react; she learned long ago giving Plutt's ugly clientele any kind of response, good or bad, only invites further attempts at conversation.

Undeterred, he _snaps_ his gum and tries again. "Innit?"

She knows this particular pig only comes by hoping he'll catch her bent at the waist working on an engine, which is why she's made it a point to do oil changes around the time he usually shows up. Halfway under the car, wearing her oversized hand-me-down denim overalls, there's not much to ogle.

 _Snap_. "I quit smokin', y'know? Cuz of your azz-mah."

Rey hasn't had an asthma attack since she was a child, and knows damn well Plutt forbade cigarettes after some dipshit nearly burned down the garage a few months back. Nevermind that Plutt himself always has a soggy cigar drooping out of his mouth.

Scuffling footsteps approach the car, and she can't help the tiny murmur of unease that makes the wrench slip in her hand. She's never been outright attacked by one of these losers before, but the unwanted idle chitchat has become more frequent the older she gets.

"Hey, you hear--"

The screeching of the front gate thankfully drowns out whatever he was going to say next, and Rey scoots out from under the car and hops up without giving him a backwards glance. Plutt only opens the big gate when he's got a big score.

The beat up tow truck is straining to haul in a twisted hunk of black and silver metal, and even though it's scratched to hell and covered in mud Rey can instantly see this is a gorgeous, expensive piece of machinery. Or was, rather.

Kicking up dust in her rush to get closer, she slaps her palm on the driver's side door to get Plutt's attention. "Where's this from?"

Plutt grunts and shoves until she backs up and lets him stumble out. "Drag racing wreck. Nobody claimed it and the impoundment lot's gettin' full, so they handed it off."

Rey's already walking away though, eyes on her prize. The body's a lost cause, but there's more than likely some high end parts to be stripped and maybe even secreted away for use on her personal project. There's no plates of course, but no branding of any kind either. Her fingers smooth over the crumpled aluminum and come away flecked with dirt and black paint. It almost makes her want to cry to see it in such a state.

Plutt spits and waves her away. "Anything worth havin' out of it's mine, get me?"

Rey rolls her eyes and goes to finish up her earlier task: Plutt is as greedy as he is lazy. She'll be the one to take that beauty apart, and she'll be the one to decide what's worth keeping.

***

After dark Rey slinks past the trailer where she knows Plutt is asleep in front of the television, beer in hand and smoldering cigar burning a new hole in the carpet.

It's easy enough to disable the alarm, although the rusty gate squeals loud enough to alert anybody who's not currently passed out in a booze-and-Twinkies stupor. When nobody comes to investigate, Rey huffs and slowly pulls the gate shut behind her.

It's lucky for her Plutt's too cheap to run the floodlights all night, although there's one with a motion sensor by the warehouse door she skirts just to be safe. Her tiny keychain flashlight will have to do.

The wreck is too oddly shaped for stacking and rests in a corner by itself. Most of the grime was blasted off with a hose after drop off, but even so the make and model remains a mystery. It's cool and overcast, but as Rey toys with the drawstrings on her black hoodie she swears the thing gleams darkly all on its own.

Gravel crunches under her ratty old Chucks as she circles it; both windshields are webbed with cracks, and through the missing rear passenger window her flashlight casts a sheen that speaks to leather upholstery. _Probably water-spotted and torn_ , she thinks, rueful. _Shame_.

There are no side mirrors on it, and no joints to suggest there ever were, which gives her pause. Maybe it's a prototype. A concept car that got stolen and raced by the lead designer's spoiled asshole son. Gotta be.

Her palms feel itchy just imagining what kind of crazy expensive rare shit must be inside a car so brand new and unique; even if she can't use any of it herself, the salvage and resale should cover a huge chunk of the costs for her baby.

Not for the first time she marvels that nobody wanted it back, even if it will never drive again.

Around the front of the vehicle is the smashed in remnants of a fussy-looking grille, with thick curving lines of chrome set upon velvety matte black paint. It sort of resembles a grumpy, snarling face, and Rey scrunches her nose and grunts at it.

The headlights flash.

"Shit--!"

When the spots clear from her vision Rey finds herself on her ass in the dirt, staring into a pair of glowing red eyes set where the headlights were moments ago.

And then a _voice_ , a voice like a rumbling engine, grinds forth--

" **Boo**."

**Author's Note:**

> I just want to say one time that Back to Life by Hailee Steinfeld is a perfect post TROS reylo song


End file.
